After that, any trace of soreness in the inspectorial breast was completely obliterated.
Both Winter and Furneaux produced strong magnifying-glasses, and scrutinized the scratches and impressions on the bare rock and moss. Bates, skilled in wood lore, was quick to note what they had discerned at a glance.
"Beg pardon, gentlemen both, but may I put in a word?" he muttered awkwardly.
"As many as you like," Winter assured him.
"Well, these here marks was made by Farrow an' meself, say about ten forty, or a trifle over an hour after the murder; an' I have no sort o' doubt as these other marks are a day or two days older."
"You might even put it at three days," agreed Winter.
"Then it follows——" began the Inspector, but checked himself. He was becoming slightly mixed as to the exact sequence of events.
"Come, now, Bates," said Furneaux, "you can tell us the day Mr. Robert Fenley left home recently? There is no harm in mentioning his name. It can't help being in our thoughts, since it was discovered that his gun was missing."
"He went off on a motor bicycle last Saturday mornin', sir."